Pick wisely

Staying alive while facing mental health battles seems to be a minute by minute choice. It’s the conversations that no one wants to have, but are more important than anything else you talked about today. There hasn’t been one moment in my last twenty years that I wasnt intimately aware of mental health. Between dealing with ever cycling emotions of puberty in my own body, and watching some of the others around me face battle deep inside.

Within that same timing I had my world flipped upside down because someone close to me lost the battle.

Talk to you lived ones. Listen when they chose to talk. You may be the only one they turn to.

That makes it all that much more important to chose the people you surround yourself with.

Make sure they are healthy for you, in the good times and the bad.

It’s okay

It’s okay

It’s okay to miss them

It’s okay to say their name

It’s okay to cry

It’s okay to breathe deeply

It’s okay to smile when you think of them

It’s okay to function

Its okay to have days where you cant function

It’s okay to be angry

It’s okay to be thankful

It’s okay to love again

It’s okay to remember

It’s okay to hope

It’s okay to be honest

It’s okay to trust again

It’s okay

It’s okay

It’s okay

Scribbles & Crumbs

❤❤381❤❤

19 years of surviving without him.

The unanswerable question

So I am not sure when they decided that September was suicide awareness month, but I am having a rough time with it. I am absolutely all for the surge of awareness for prevention, don’t get me wrong.

On a selfish note, the timing sucks.

The beginning of October will mark nineteen years since my life was forever changed. This is one of those weird situations where I feel selfish talking about how it affected me instead of how the family members were affected. I see his mothers posts on social media and it tears my heart apart to imagine what she is going through. As a mother, I fight trying to imagine the life that she has been  forced to live. As much as I love the woman, she makes me think of him too much and I have never been able to handle that. That makes me feel like such a bad human. She has done nothing but been amazing to me, but I get the feeling that I remind her of him as well. How do I fix that?

The boy that I knew deserved more then the life he lived to be cut short. I want to know the battles he faced. I want to go back and be able to talk to him more, have deeper questions and conversations, with a better understanding of mental health. He didn’t deserve to fight that alone. He didn’t deserve to feel like the world would ever be a better place if he weren’t in it. I think that’s what breaks me the most. The idea that this boy I loved, this boy that I considered my best friend, this boy that I was planning my life to revolve around, thought that we would all be better without him.

I know I was super young, and naïve. I know that there was lots of kids in the family so it is hard to get super invested in each kid the way you could if its an only child. I am also aware that teenagers do everything possible to not let parents in. He slipped through the cracks of a otherwise perfect family. Seriously this was the family that I was always jealous of. All the brothers and sisters, the always present parents and grandparents. Don’t get me wrong my family is amazing, but there wasn’t a lot of us and that family seemed like the big happy family that I always thought I wanted.

So how did he get away with committing suicide?

That question never gets easier.

There is never any answers either.

I still miss you

No matter how much changes in this life I will always miss you.

No matter how happy I become, how much I love my life now,or how much I love the people I chose to surround myself with…. I will always miss you.

It doesnt matter how long its been. It doesn’t matter if everything I kept to remind me of you is gone. It doesnt matter if I have forgotten the sound of your voice, or the exact mannerism you used to posess…. I will always miss you.

I closed the chapter. I opened another. I cherish every part to do with my life now. I still miss you.

Now I wonder if the version of you in my head is real or if its shifted into what I want to remember versus what I don’t want to, but I still miss you.

You live on. Even if you didn’t want to.

Mental Health Needs your help

Mental Health is not a joke.

Being a person that was born into a family that has not been kissed by any sever mental health disorders, it took me some years to start learning that most people around us have something affecting them daily.

It doesn’t have to have a big fancy name attached to it to mean something. So many people deal with situation depression, situational anxiety and so on.

It’s important to keep in mind that everybody is dealing with their own battles, and it isn’t your job to fix it. You don’t even really have to understand it.

The only job that you are tasked with is to be supportive to those that are battling.

They battle out loud just as much as the battle behind closed doors.

The stigma that surrounds Mental Health anymore is not going to be won in a macro sense until it is handled in a micro way.

That means that you and I have a job to do.

Everyone of us needs to stop staying quite when you see someone suffering.

Take that step. Offer to stand beside the people around you that are struggling.

Stop standing back and letting them battle in silence.

Suicide is the 10th leading cause of death in the United States in 2017. 

Each year 47,173 AMERICANS die by suicide. 

There is 1,400,000 Suicide attempts in 2017 alone. 

Suicide costs the United States $51 Billion annually. 

Men die of suicide 3.5 times MORE than women. 

In 2017 firearms accounted for 50.57% off all suicide deaths. 

There is one suicide for every estimated 25 suicide attempts. 

An estimated quarter million people each year become suicide survivors. 

The average age of the of suicide victims? 

MIDDLE AGED WHITE MEN

 

Some stay.

Watching someone close to me go thru the gut wrenching realization that they now will always be considered suicide survivor is horrifying.

You are numb as you get told.

You go thru the motions for a while. Checking the correct boxes for things that need to be done. Sure you have moments that you breakdown. But the long term reality of it doesnt come for some time.

And then it does.

People have all left. They all stepped away thinking that you will be fine since you have been such a rock thru it all this far. They tell you to call if you need them, but you wont.

They wouldnt be able to handle the questions that you need answered.

People all want to say that they can help, but unless they are there in the pits and shallows with you, they don’t get it.

They can’t.

All I want to do is help them. I’ve been there. I want to share the secrets that I have learned along the way.

It wont work however.

Everyones story is different.

Everyones guilt is different.

The process is different.

So until you can talk to me about your process, I will just keep showing up. Sometimes with coffee, sometimes for movie dates, other times to help you clean your house when you’re that low.

Because I cant walk away like so many did to me.

I can’t.

So I will stay.

When the words take away your air

So there is a tv show that I keep seeing on television that has caught my attention. I first saw the preview as I was sitting with my husband watching a tv show. It hit me like a ton of bricks, where he was able to sit and not even notice that my world had tilted on its axis.

The first few lines in this preview was a man saying something like “You’re not going to believe this, but John (or Jeff or whatever his name is) committed suicide”. I have seen this preview multiple times but I am not able to remember any of the rest of the preview. Each time I see it I get stuck on this sentence that starts the commercial off. I imagine that this man is talking to a buddy, and this is the normal way that they talk to each other so the offhand delivery itself doesn’t catch my attention.

What catches my attention is the idea that I have to spend the rest of my life being affected by lines like these. Its been over a decade since I had to hear those words said in a much softer way to me. A decade since the whispers would stop as I walked into the room, or down the hall, just to have them start again after I passed by. A decade since I had to try to find new pieces to start rebuilding myself since he didn’t think about how it would be affecting anyone else.

Who am I kidding it has almost been TWO decades.

So that’s where this kicker just seems to keep kicking.

18 years later, a whole different life later, and yet it still has the ability to kind the wind out of my lungs better than almost else.